All We Know
by Frannie Grace
Summary: NBC showed the movie-again. I rewrote the roof scene-again.


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Disclaimer: They belong to Tom Fontana, Barry Levinson, and David Simon. NBC gets no credit because they even reshowed the movie on a night when it would get no ratings. Typical.

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Author's Notes: I watched the roof scene, and I still can't see Tim killing Ryland. I reworked the scene again. It started out well in my mind, but I think I left it in a jumble. Please, send feedback to let me know. For my friend, Jennifer, who puts up with my rants on why it didn't happen, and still loves me. Maybe this will convince you, too.

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All We Know

By Gayle F. Cox-Moffet

"I thought about it. I knew how I'd do it. I wanted to take a life. I wanted to take _Ryland's_ life. I wanted to take my gun and _jam_ the barrel into the back of his head and _shoot_. And _shoot_. And _shoot_. I wanted to leave him unrecognizable in the street." Tim turned his gaze from Baltimore through the fence wire to Frank. "I thought about it, and I almost _did _it. I stood outside his apartment and clicked the safety on and off on my gun. On and off. On and off. I almost did it, Frank. I almost killed Ryland."

Frank blinked. He blinked gain. He swallowed, tightened his fingers on the fence and hissed in air between his teeth. "You can't kill anyone, Tim."

"I know that. I know it now. I almost didn't know it. I almost killed Ryland, Frank. I almost committed homicide. I _almost_ went and _violated _every _iota_ of my belief system. I _almost_ killed a man." Tim broke his gaze from Frank's. He stared back out at Baltimore through the pattern of fence wire. "I almost killed Ryland. I was so _close_. I raised my gun. I raised my gun, and then, I lowered it. I put it down, and I walked away. I lowered my gun."

"You lowered your gun?" Frank stared hard at Tim's profile. "You lowered your gun?"

"Yes."

"You didn't shoot Ryland?"

"I almost did."

"Tim, _did you shoot Ryland_?"

"No." It came out a shamed, choked whisper. "No, Frank, I didn't shoot Ryland. I walked away. I left and went home and stared at my gun. I almost ate my gun, Frank. I almost killed myself. I almost put the barrel in my mouth and blew the back of my head into the wall."

Frank hated his question, despised it, but he asked it. "Why didn't you?"

"Eat my gun?" Tim stared at Frank, stared blank-eyed at the only person he could confess to. "It would have been wrong. I'm Tim Bayliss. Zen detective with bisexual tendencies. I'm peaceful and sensitive. I'm a thirty-eight year old man who answers to 'Timmy'. It would be wrong to kill myself. It would be wrong to kill the innocence people assume I still carry. I work to make things right, Frank. I work to right the wrongs."

"You wouldn't kill Ryland because it was wrong." Frank grabbed Tim just above the elbow. He had to make sure he was in reality. "Killing Ryland was wrong? How? He _killed_ people, Tim."

Tim's voice was soft, understanding, very, very young. "I know that. I know Ryland was a monster. I knew he would get punishment, but I knew it couldn't be from me. It was wrong."

"Wrong. It was wrong for _you_ to kill him, but it was _right _for someone else to do it?"

"There's right and there's wrong. He was punished; it was right."

Frank blinked. "The world isn't so black and white."

Tim smiled almost dreamily as he cupped Frank's face. "But it is, Frank. Because that's what homicide is. Righting the wrongs. We fix the bad. We work for God. All we know is right and wrong. Black and white and blue and red. That's it for us. I toed the line, I almost killed Ryland. I almost killed myself. But I didn't because all I know is right and wrong. I go with what I know. I know right and wrong."

Frank stared at the face so close to his, the hazel eyes, the crease between the eyebrows. Eight years in death and decay, and he was still looking at the rookie he didn't want as a partner. He didn't know how to respond. "I think Mary and I are going to stay home tonight." He released Tim, Tim released him. They started across the roof. Frank stopped by the door, stared up at his partner. "Why did you tell me?"

"You're my partner, Frank. Who else would I tell?"

"Are you going to kill yourself?"

"No."

"Because it's wrong?"

"Yes."

"Right and wrong."

"Black and white." Tim stared out across the roof. "That's all we know, Frank."


End file.
